“It sure is. They’re even going to have entertainment. Lily has a friend who’s a songwriter and she’ll be in for the weekend. She agreed to perform. She’s coming all the way from Nashville.”
Fred nodded. He remembered Laura from her time in Riston, and he’d seen her many times at some of the restaurants in town. She was great, and at least that would be something he could occupy himself with while everyone else was bobbing for apples.
“Sounds like a lot of work. And we have a lot of our own. I’m afraid we’re going to have some long hours ahead.”
“Fine by me,” Olivia said. “Now that I’ve gathered all the files, I’m anxious to get started. I love when a project comes together. It’s like a treasure hunt. No stone unturned.”
Fred turned on the seat heaters as darkness settled and the air chilled. He pursed his lips as he wondered how to get the information about the property from Olivia without arousing suspicion. As yet, he didn’t have a great idea, but he had until tomorrow to figure it out. He’d have to call the surveyor right away if they had any hope of getting this done in time.
“You hungry? You’ve had a long first day,” he asked as they turned down the Main Street of Riston. “We have several good restaurants here.”
“Do you mind if we just go home? I can cook something if you want. I’d really like to take a shower, put some comfy clothes on and go through these boxes.”
“Really? I thought I was the only one who loved following trails of bread crumbs and doing numbers’ projects.” He glanced sideways at her and she really did seem excited about it. Not tired at all.
“How about if I cook while you take a shower? Or there’s more lasagna if you prefer.”
“What do you think your mother would like?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Oh, she’s not there. She’s out tonight.”
“Hm. I’m sorry. I was looking forward to meeting her.”
“You will. Believe me, you will,” he said. He chuckled and wasn’t quite sure that he should hasten that event.
“Well, I guess we have a deal. You cook tonight, and maybe tomorrow night I can cook for both of you.”
“Deal,” he said as he pulled into the driveway and opened the garage door. “The sooner we eat, the sooner we can get back to work.”
It made him happy to hear her laugh as she said, “Yippee!”
Chapter 9
Fred took his mother’s advice and while Olivia rifled through files at the sprawling dining room table, he whipped up a quick meatloaf and put it in the oven. He peeled some potatoes and set them to boil and poured a cup of coffee for Olivia. He’d offered to help her at the table, but she said she had some arranging to do, wanted to sort the files by area of relevance to get ready for their day tomorrow, so he’d just set to work in the kitchen. They had to eat, after all, if they wanted to stay alive during this project.
He set the coffee down, but Olivia didn’t look up for a moment. When she did, he was wiping his hands on his apron.
“An apron?” she said, cocking a brow as a slow smile spread across her face.
“What?” he said as he looked down. Men wore aprons, didn’t they? All the ones who did barbecue on TV did, and he hadn’t wanted to get grease on his—oh, well.
“Is an apron on a man in the same category as a bow tie?” he asked, his cheeks heating.
She rested her hand on his as he sat down beside her. “I’m just teasing. Nothing wrong with an apron. I have one of my own that I always wear, but I left it in New York. Didn’t think I might need it.”
He smiled as his heart slowed. “You can borrow mine,” he said. “I’ll lend you the one without rhinestones.”
Olivia laughed—a sound he’d already grown to enjoy.
“Something smells good,” she said and he glanced into the kitchen.
“Meatloaf. Hope that’s okay. It’s easy—and mashed potatoes.”
“Sounds great to me,” she said as she turned her attention back to the stacks of files in front of her. “Anything to keep me going.”
“Look, Olivia, I don’t want us to have to kill ourselves over this project. But you saw how much it means to the Westons. For some reason, having this all come out at the party is important.”
Olivia shook her head. “I guess so. We have a couple of weeks, but even so we’ll be hard-pressed to make it.”
Fred ran his hands through his hair and sighed. She didn’t even know the half of it. If he didn’t get started on the property transfer, that wouldn’t be done at all. And he wanted it to be—for Mrs. Weston.
“What are you doing? How can I help?” he asked as Olivia stood and stacked another folder in a pile.
She looked at him and smiled. “There actually is a method to my madness, even though it probably doesn’t look like it. I’m separating files by category—physical asset, income, property, things like that.”
He caught his breath for a moment. If she was making a separate category for property, that might make his job of finding those maps and information easier. And it didn’t seem that she was going through the files quite yet, just separating them for the moment.
“Great. I’ll help until the meatloaf’s done.”
She smiled at him, her blue eyes lighting up. She’d taken her black hair out of its ponytail and it fell softly around her face. She’d also changed into yoga pants and a sweatshirt—she looked like she was ready to work.
“Thank you,” she said as she pushed a stack of files in his direction. “If we can get this all sorted tonight, we can do the same thing at the bank tomorrow with the older files.”
“My thought exactly,” he added as he stood and started sorting the files he’d been given.
The timer on the meatloaf rang and he headed into the kitchen. He set the full plates on the granite counter and called her in.
Her eyes widened as she took a seat on the kitchen stool.
“This is awesome. One of my all-time favorites,” she said.
He took off his apron and hung it in the pantry.
“Aw, I’m going to miss that,” she said as she wiggled her eyebrows.
He looked away quickly and sat down beside her. “Very funny. Enjoy,” he said as they both picked up their forks.
“Tell me about New York,” he said as they ate, and he listened while she described her Brooklyn neighborhood, laughing at some of her stories. She really was funny, he thought, and had an easy way with people. He wished he had some of that, sometimes. He’d never been one to be at ease right off the bat with people. Took him some time to get to know them, but for Olivia, it was natural.
She yawned as she finished the last of her meatloaf.
“That was delicious,” she said as she glanced at the clock. “I don’t know why I’m so tired—oh, yeah. It’s not nine, it’s eleven where I live.”
“Oh, right. I forgot about the time difference,” Fred said as he put the last of the silverware in the dishwasher and started it. “We can call it a night if you want. Hit it again tomorrow.”
“No, no, I want to finish this last box of files. Then we can pack them back up first thing in the morning and head to the bank.”
“Okay, if you insist.” He admired her work ethic—this was about the time he’d be coming home from the bank these days anyway. “How about I make you some hot chocolate?”
“That would be awesome. I’ll see if I can finish these up,” she said as she stretched and yawned one last time.
Fred boiled the milk and added the chocolate, filling two mugs and topping them off with whipped cream.
He headed into the dining room and stopped short—Olivia’s head rested on the stack of files in front of her and she was emitting what he would call—at least in public—a dainty purr. Sort of like his mother did, which he’d once called snoring and she’d corrected him. Purring, she called it.
He laughed silently as he set down the hot chocolate. A pang of guilt nudged him, but it actually would be the perfect time to look
for the plot maps since she appeared to be pretty solidly asleep.
It only took a few moments for him to find what he was looking for, and he glanced over at Olivia before he quietly tugged the folder out of the stack. He opened it and quickly rifled through it—it had everything he needed. It was all there. The plot map, the deed of trust, the instructions for splitting—all of it.
He’d find a way to contact the surveyor tomorrow at the bank. He’d also need to take the surveyor up there, or meet him there somehow. Last he’d been there, there was no road. It was accessible by horse or four-wheeler only. Trekking up there would take an entire day, one they couldn’t afford to miss with this tight time
line.
The wheels in his head spun as he paced in front of the fireplace. He could contact his old friend Wyatt, take a horse up there and meet the surveyor. That would work.
He stopped pacing as the locked turned in the front door. He held his finger to his lips as his mother entered and hung up her coat on the rack by the door.
“What’s happening?” she whispered when she’d crossed over to the fireplace.
“Olivia fell asleep,” he whispered in return, pointing to Olivia head down on the dining room table.
His mother laughed and held her hand to her mouth. “Poor dear. You’re working her too hard already,” she said as she glanced over to the sleeping accountant.
“And she purrs, too,” she said with a small laugh.
“I’m not sure if I should wake her up,” he said as he put the property file in a drawer of his desk in the living room.
“I’m not sure you could,” his mother said. “I think she may be dreaming already.”
Fred reached for the blanket on the back of the couch and gently covered Olivia with it. She wiggled a little bit, and he thought if she woke up he could point her in the direction of her room. But she didn’t—she just kept purring.
“She looks very sweet,” his mother said as she turned toward her section of the house. It really was a separate part, with its own study, bedroom, dressing room, bathroom—just like his on the opposite side of the house.
“She is very sweet,” he said quietly as he dimmed the lights in the living room.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you,” his mother said as she paused at the doorway.
“I said good night. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Good night, son,” his mother said with a glance back toward the sleeping Olivia and a wink to Fred.
Chapter 10
Olivia sat bolt upright and looked around, wondering where she was as she slowly woke up. She looked around the room at the stacks of files and the cup of hot chocolate—cold chocolate now by the looks of it.
It took a moment for her to remember—well, the last thing she remembered was looking through a file and waiting for Fred to come back from the kitchen.
She pulled the blanket around her shoulders—where had that come from?—and walked over toward the picture window, marveling again as the sun peeked over the mountains and bathed the valley in a warm glow.
She rubbed the back of her neck and realized she must have fallen asleep. How embarrassing. She sure hoped she wasn’t snoring, but there really wasn’t anything she could do about it. They may as well get used to it if she was going to be staying in their house for a while. Her sister Opal had nudged her awake at least a million times, as they’d shared a bedroom most of their childhood.
She combed her fingers through her hair and put the hot chocolate in the microwave. Just before it beeped, Fred came into the room, dressed and ready for the day ahead.
“Morning,” he said as he set up the coffee maker. “How you feeling today?”
She took the hot chocolate out of the microwave and warmed her hands on the mug.
“Um, a little embarrassed. How did I fall asleep at the table?”
Fred laughed and leaned on the counter.
“It happened with lightning speed. No insomnia for you, that’s for sure.”
“I can’t believe I didn’t even get to my hot chocolate. And I didn’t get to finish the files, either.”
“No, but you apparently needed the sleep. The hot chocolate probably tastes good this morning and I finished separating the files. You didn’t budge an inch.”
She groaned a little and turned back to the window.
“What’s the matter?”
She pulled her hair back into a ponytail with the band that was on her wrist and said, “I was hoping that I wasn’t snoring.”
“You certainly were not,” said a female voice from the other side of the room.
Olivia turned and couldn’t help but return the smile of the tall, thin older woman who breezed into the room. She looked a lot like Fred, and Olivia assumed it was his mother.
“Oh, I hope not. I’m Olivia. You must be Mrs. Wharton?” Olivia asked as she crossed the room and extended her hand.
“Of course you are, my dear. And you weren’t snoring. Was she, Fred?”
Fred turned away, but not before Olivia caught a smile. “No, not at all. Purring, maybe?”
“Purring?” Olivia asked, her mouth wide open in horror.
“Yes, that’s what we call it around here. Purring. You were happily purring in your sleep. It was sweet.”
Olivia was grateful for Mrs. Wharton’s kind words, although her cheeks only now began to return to their natural color from the red that had crept up from her neck.
“Thank you,” she mumbled as she sat back down at the dining room table.
“You’re welcome, and it’s a pleasure to meet you. Thank you so much for coming to our aide with this project. We’re a small, family-run bank and not used to projects of this magnitude. On such a short time line, anyway.”
“You’re very welcome. I’m enjoying my time here and anxious to get this all buttoned up,” Olivia said.
“Would anyone like some breakfast?” Fred asked as his mother reached for the coffee pot.
“I don’t think so,” she said. “I can have Mrs. Green bring something in if you two want to get straight to the bank.”
She poured her coffee into a to-go cup and reached for the pumpkin spice creamer in the refrigerator. “I’m going to get an early start. I presume you’re waiting for Olivia, Fred?”
“Yes, she’ll need a ride. Go ahead, and take that pumpkin spice smell with you.” He smiled as he nudged his mother toward the door.
“Good grief. Some things never change. You’re lucky they only have it in the stores at this time of year. Otherwise, I’d torture you with it all year round.”
Olivia laughed, but at the same time missed her own mother. They’d joked around like this as a family—her passing had impacted all of them deeply. Especially her father.
“I still can’t believe he doesn’t like pumpkin,” Olivia said as she shook her head slowly.
Mrs. Wharton smiled and walked over to the mantle, returning with a small picture.
“This isn’t new,” she said as she handed the picture to Olivia while Fred pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Mom, is that necessary?”
“She asked, son. Honesty, always.” She turned to Olivia and ran her thumb over the photo as she lovingly looked at it. “This is a picture of Fred’s very first—well, first and only—experience with pumpkin. His father and I thought it would be a nice flavor of baby food to try on his first Halloween.”
Olivia burst out laughing. The baby in the picture—clearly Fred—had a horrible look on his face and something orange dribbling down his chin.
“He didn’t like it with the first bite. I kept trying for a while, and he’d smile and just spit it back out at me. We gave up after a bit, but not before Mr. Wharton’s white shirt was covered in orange. He had to change.”
“Oh, my goodness,” Olivia said and she glanced over at Fred, whose face was definitely a dark shade of pink.
“So, you see, it’s not like I have a choice. I was born that way,” he said, and she was glad at
least that he could smile. Laugh at himself a little more. He was incredibly private and more than a little shy and she wondered how that happened, especially since his mother—and now Olivia—teased him pretty often.
Mrs. Wharton placed the picture back on the mantle and patted it before she reached for her to-go cup of pumpkin-spiced coffee.
“I’ll take the offending scent and go. I’ll meet you at the bank, and let me know if you want me to have breakfast waiting. I’ll have Mrs. Green order lunch as I know you’ll need it.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Fred said as Mrs. Wharton headed out the door. He turned to Olivia and sipped his own, black coffee. “That was painful.”
“Aw, she’s very nice. And she obviously loves you very much, even if she does torture you with pumpkin spice creamer.”
“Hm, sometimes I wonder,” he said with a smile, and she knew for sure that he was kidding. She’d originally thought that it was truly weird that someone his age lived with his mother but clearly, they had a fun rapport and were respectful of each other’s privacy.
Fred glanced at his watch and finished his coffee, setting his cup in the sink. “I’ll box up these files while you’re getting ready, and we can head over.”
Olivia jumped up, realizing she should take a quick shower and get ready for their work day.
“Oh, I should finish categorizing them before I get ready, don’t you think? No point starting over when we get to the bank.”
Fred waved her away. “Go ahead and get ready. I finished last night after you fell asleep.”
“Really? And I didn’t wake up?”
“Nope, not once. Not a single break in your...purring.”
She smiled and sighed deeply. “Oh, good grief. Well, okay, if you don’t mind boxing them, I’ll just be a second. I get ready really fast.”
Fred smiled and said, “No problem. I’ll be ready when you are.”
Olivia chose a bank-appropriate outfit—not exactly heels and hose but a long black skirt, blue sweater and boots—and hopped in the shower. She was in and out as fast as she could, and she paused for a moment while she was drying her hair.
Bashful Banker Page 5